Effecting A Change
by Half-BPrincess
Summary: Lord Voldemort understands that time doesn't change things. To win the war, he must change time.


"They always say time changes things, but you actually have to change them yourself."

― Andy Warhol, _The Philosophy of Andy Warhol _

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With a dark hiss Lord Voldemort, de facto ruler of the wizarding world shooed his servants away, stalking from the room in which they had been meeting to his private quarters, pacing up and down in front of the hearth. It was Dumbledore, it was always Dumbledore that had to get in the way. Some of his followers would claim that it was the damn Potter brat, but Lord Voldemort knew better than any of those plebeians. Potter got in the way because Dumbledore put him there. In fact, without Dumbledore's influence the child would most likely make a passable wizard. Such a shame that he could never be allowed to grow into his potential.

A live Harry Potter, whether he changed sides or not would always be a beacon for the Light, a rallying point for the fight against them, if needs must a martyr to call the common fools to arms. And a Potter actively working against him, well, suffice to say the damage would be immense.

Due to his extensive research into self-linking wards Lord Voldemort could even tell which one the whiskered wanker had destroyed. The ring. _His_ ring. Dumbledore would die, of course that had already been planned, but now Dumbledore would _suffer_. Lord Voldemort paused in his pacing. The ring was not a horcrux in an obvious place. The ring was something that could only have been discovered with difficulty. The ring was an artefact that Dumbledore would have had to actively _search_ for. And he wouldn't do that if he didn't know what it was. And with Potter's destruction of his first, diary horcrux, they must know.

Lord Voldemort continued pacing.

The Light knew about his horcruxes. They had destroyed two. They probably knew there were more. There were no guarantees that the secret was contained to those who had destroyed horcruxes. There was no sure way to permanently remove the knowledge from their minds without killing them. There was no way to kill them quickly enough to stop them sharing the secret of his horcruxes.

Lord Voldemort stopped pacing again, frustrated. He needed more information. Moving across to the door he spotted Pettigrew hiding in the corner.  
"Get me Ssssnape." He hissed at the pitiful figure. "And get him ssssoon!"

It was valuable minutes before Pettigrew returned within Snape in tow. Lord Voldemort rewarded the rat with a short burst of cruciatus for his haste.  
"Sssseverussss, I have need of your knowledge." The Dark Lord hissed lowly.

"I am at your disposal, master." Snape bowed his head low. A smirk crept across Lord Voldemort's reptilian features at the mock show of obedience from the potions master.

"Are you sssso ssssure, Sssseverussss, of jusssst who it issss that you wissssh to win thissss war?" The Dark Lord breathed darkly.

"I live only to serve you, milord," Snape bowed his head further. Lord Voldemort gave in to his urge to smirk ferally.

"Then, my mosssst faithful, look into my eyessss..."

And, shaking, the terror filled obsidian orbs did just that.

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Three hours later Lord Voldemort was even more enraged. Dumbledore _knew_, and that traitor Snape knew too. Worse than that, there were plans for Potter to know, and Potter's friends. And _Potter_ was a horcrux, and the _light _side were planning to send their _savior_ to his _death_. And they called _him_ a heartless murderer! Hypocrites, the lot of them.

But now, the question at hand; What to do now? The only time constraint was regarding his horcruxes. The secret must be contained and completely dealt with before the opposing side could destroy them and render him mortal. Snape was not, of course, a threat to his timescale. The spy had been thoroughly obliviated and would now only recall brewing simple healing potions. Voldemort idly wondered if the near constant obliviations would, or had, impacted on the Potions Master's mind, but then dismissed it. It was far too late to worry about the man now, particularly as the Professor no longer supported the cause.

If Lord Voldemort was truthful, it was too late to do anything. If only he could go back and change things...

It was a pity, he mused, that time turners only turned things back a few hours. If only they could go back further - like a few _years_. Scratch that, if he could go back in time he'd go back at least sixteen years, tell himself _not_ to go after the Potters. He frowned again. No, he shouldn't like to be an observer, he shouldn't like to have to rely on his past self's judgement. He wanted the chance to live the years again, but with all of his later knowledge and experience...  
Surely, surely it had to be possible? If some plebeian had created a time turner, surely the mind of Lord Voldemort could succeed in creating a ritual of some kind to send himself backwards, to allow him to fix things? He nodded sharply to himself. This would be his task.

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Over the next months, many death Eaters noted that their Lord was somewhat distracted, spending many a meeting sketching out rune arrays on spare scraps of parchment, ordering rare theoretical texts and he periodically sent a lone servant to retrieve a single item from the department of mysteries.

The Death Eaters, of course, worried for their Master, but after both Bellatrix Lestrange and the Carrows had been reduced to shuddering wrecks, still spasming due to the extreme use of the cruciatus curse, any and all concerns were kept privately.

The Dark Lord had advanced significantly in his studies, to the detriment of the war. Well, at least to the detriment of it _currently_. While he soaked the dust inside time-turners in his various potions, he spent much of his time analysing his previous mistakes. Trusting anybody was top of the list. Not hiding his horcruxes well enough came next. Not killing Albus Dumbledore sooner completed it. He stared at the list for hours on end, endlessly envisioning ways to get around his failings. The more he thought on it, the earlier he thought he should go back.

After eighteen unsuccessful attempts with time-turner dust, Lord Voldemort had come to a decision; he would go back to summer, 1942, just before his fifth year at Hogwarts. It appeared that the decision brought with it a stroke of good luck, experiment nineteen becoming the most successful batch, and a conversation with Pettigrew, of all people, leading to a breakthrough in the ritual aspect of the time travel.

"M-m-master, may I, may I ask you, a-a-a-a-a-a-a-"

"Assss you wissssh," Lord Voldemort replied offhand, mind still focused on the aspects of the ritual he was missing, the powering and triggering elements – the power needed to send his soul and his knowledge back would be immense hence the trigger would have to provide a great deal of power.

"I w-w-would gladly d-die in your s-s-s-s-service, My Lord, b-b-but w-w-w-w-what happens, when you, when you, when you-"

"What happens when you die?" Lord Voldemort repeated slowly. "What happens when you die..." He turned to Pettigrew with a grim smile. "Wormtail, you may have just caused a breakthrough in my research. If it does, in fact, lead in the correct direction, you will be behind wards come the final battle – you shall have nothing to fear of death."

"Th-th-thank you, My Lord!" Pettigrew's bow nearly had him touching the floor and kissing his Master's feet as he exited the room backwards, still stuttering his thanks.

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"My name is Harry Potter! You killed my mother! You killed my father! You killed my friends! Prepare to die!"

"You think you can kill me, Potter?" Lord Voldemort hissed. "Surely you jest. A fool like you, kill me? A free shot, any curse you please, before I kill you. It would be unsporting of me to give you _no_ chance."

Lord Voldemort held his arms wide, wand dropped down into a holster.

"_Avada Kedavra!_" The flash of green light sped from Harry's wand, racing towards Voldemort, but not fast enough for Harry to miss the triumphant smile pasted across his enemy's face before he crumpled to the floor, dead.

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A/N: Happy Birthday to me, Happy Birthday to me... Pretty much everything has been updated today, so check out the new installments of everything else too!


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